She knows who she is, but in this story Ill call her Lily. Eighteen and pure. Clean and good. Devoted and loyal. Shes my dream made real….any mans d...eam. I notice them staring when were out in the town. The eyes that look and wonder, trying to fathom how I could find such a sweet bride. I wonder myself sometimes, when shes holding my hand, her face all sunshine….and I can feel the envy when we share a kiss and a private word. But I have no fear that shell stray. She belongs to me….which she. My doorbell rang one morning and a young boy holding my signed notestood there “I’ve come round to help” he said and I let him in. What ahandsome young boy he was although pretty might have been a betterexpression but boys don’t care for that do they? His name was Robin and hewas 12. “What would you like me to do” he asked “I can stay for 4 hours and Ihave been told to do anything you want.” “Well dear” I said “I have a few. At the end of the room were the sliding doors of what once was a walk-in closet that ran the width of the room. Inside, there were no clothes, of course. It had become Carl's "private sanctuary" (which he was forced to share with Aaron).No sooner had she reached the sliding doors, a sliding door on the next to Carl's bed opened. Wiry Carl dashed out. The green crew cut 16-year-old had changed out of the clothes he'd gotten from Edison, and was now wearing his gray pullover sweatshirt and black. She wriggled against him, their wet clothing sticking to each other as he carried her back up the porch and in through the front door of the house.Even inside, the sound of the storm was fierce, rain pounding down on the roof, beating loudly against the skylights in the kitchen. The wind howled and roared like a living beast, trying to battle its way through to them.He let her go just inside the front door, spinning her around to face him. "Do you think she'd want you outside in this waiting.